


A Heart Encircled, Gently

by spelledink



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Drama, F/F, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelledink/pseuds/spelledink
Summary: Andy gets Miranda a Christmas present. Romance, drama, and family fluff ensues.This is a holiday story, but a part of the "A Love's Journey" universe.





	1. A Certain Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> À Maintes Reprises – Time and Again  
> Chéri – darling  
> Ne t'inquiète pas – Do not worry  
> Mon cher ami. – My dear friend.  
> Non, non, ma chérie. – No, no my darling.  
> Qui sait? - Who knows?  
> Merci, ma belle amie. – Thank you, my beautiful friend.  
> Joyeux Noël.– Merry Christmas.  
> Bonne chance ce soir. – Good luck tonight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy buys a gift for Miranda.

**_A Heart Encircled, Gently_ **

**A Devil Wears Prada fanfiction**

**This story is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.**

**The Devil Wears Prada is the property of Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox.**

 

Andy Sachs walked down 1st Avenue, hunching her shoulders against the cold. Fat snowflakes drifted down towards the sidewalk from the low hanging clouds above. She wrapped her arms around herself, thankful for heavy aviator’s jacket covering her. The dark brown leather and fleece lining of the Helmut Lang piece keeping the cold at bay.  She’d dressed for comfort today. Dark blue True Religion jeans and a brown Ralph Lauren turtleneck sweater. A pair of soft mahogany cowboy booties on her feet.

Shivering, she reached her destination, near the corner of 9th Street. A cluttered storefront. Its window home to an odd and compelling assortment of objects. A Tiffany lamp in a rose motif. Books clad in soft, faded leather. Glittering rings scattered across a green velvet tray. The sign above the door read “À Maintes Reprises”. Andy smiled, her hand reaching out for the worn brass doorknob. She turned it, entering the roomy antique shop.

A woman behind the counter smiled at Andy. Renée Delacroix gazed at the tall brunette entering her shop, a gentle smirk on her face.

_I knew she’d be back to get it._

Renee had met the brunette two months ago. She’d wandered in off the street, captivated by a certain piece in the front window. A relic of Christmas long-ago. A thing of silk, crystal, and porcelain no longer seen in this latter age. The writer had visited often, in the weeks since, her eyes lingering on it as they chatted. Sharing tea and easy conversation, they'd fallen into the comfortable ease of friendship.

Renée’s eyes brightened as she looked at her young companion.

_I knew you’d want it._

_For her._

Andy stared at the older woman, her eyes full of hope. She looked at her friend, taking in the shopkeeper’s willowy frame, clad in a dark green DvF wrap dress. Her silver hair held up in an elegant chignon.

_She’s stunning._

_So like Miranda. So poised and elegant._

“Ah, so you’ve come to take your prize, chéri?” Renée said, smiling. Andy nodded, her face flushed. “You haven’t sold it, have you?” she asked. “I know you don’t usually hold pieces, but I had to wait until I got paid, so…”

The shopkeeper paused, cocking her head. Warm hazel eyes regarded the writer with amusement. A mock frown played upon her face. She chuckled, winking at the younger woman. “What, do you think I would give it away, knowing how much you wanted it?”

Andy shrugged, her hands held wide. “Maybe?” she said. “I know it’s Christmas, so these sorts of things don’t last.” The shopkeeper looked at the brunette, a fond expression on her face. “Ne t'inquiète pas, Andy. Do not worry. I have it here, still,” Renée said. “I kept it aside, just for you.”

A rush of air escaped Andy’s lungs, tears hazing her eyes. “Oh, Renée, thank you! Thank you!” she said. “You don’t know what it means to me!” The older woman’s eyes crinkled with humor. "Oh, I think I do,” she replied. “You want it for someone special to your heart, yes?” Andy ducked her head, a rose blush blooming across her face. “Yes, I do,” she whispered. “For someone who means… everything to me.”

“Yes, so I’ve noticed,” Renée said. She shook her head, placing one hand behind the younger woman’s back. “Come, Andy, let’s retrieve your treasure,” she teased. The duo walked behind the counter, entering the back of the shop.

Andy passed through the curtained doorway, her skin tingling with anticipation.

_I can’t believe she kept it for me!_

The brunette frowned. Perhaps she could believe, recalling the first time she’d seen the item. How the shopkeeper had interrupted her musing. Drawing her into conversation about the piece, and the woman who inspired her need for it.

_Renée saw right through me. She knew I wanted it for someone special._

_Someone I care for. Someone who means the world to me._

“Someone I love,” she whispered.

Renée drew Andy into a side-hug, brushing her lips against the brunette’s hair. “That’s why I kept it,” she said. “To let you show her. That’s what all the best gifts are. Pieces of our heart, that say what we cannot put in words.”

A table lay ahead. The soft yellow flush of lamplight revealing a wooden box, with a hasp and hinges of brass. Renée gestured to it. “Here it is, mon cher ami,” she said, her lips curving gently as she regarded the writer.

Andy stepped towards the box, fingertips flipping the hasp open. Raising the lid. She gazed at the item inside, one hand raising to her breast. “Perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.” She gazed at her companion. “I can’t wait to show her,” Andy said. “As soon as I saw this, I thought of her. What she means to me. How she makes me feel. How much I…”

Andy turned away, overcome, tears tracking down her cheeks. The older woman stepped forwards, enfolding the brunette in her arms. Whispering words of comfort. “Non, non, ma chérie. Don’t cry now. This is a happy thing, yes?”

Andy nodded, leaning in towards her older friend. “I never thought it could be like this. That I could find someone who brought my heart such… joy. Yet… here I am.” She smiled, brushing an errant tear from her cheek. “What did I ever do to be so blessed?”

“Qui sait? Who knows, Andy?” replied Renée. “But don’t doubt that she feels the same way. Lucky to have the love you give her.” Andy ran nervous fingers through her auburn hair. She reached into her purse, fumbling for her wallet. “Thank you, Renée,” she said, offering a wad of bills. Renée peered at the offering, then plucked four bills from the brunette’s outstretched hand. “That will be enough,” she said.

Andy’s eyes widened. She shook her head, staring at the other woman. “But Renée, this is worth so much more than that!” The shopkeeper chuckled. “No arguments, Andy. This is something I want you to have, so don’t worry about the price.”

Andy pulled the other woman into a tight hug. “Okay,” she replied. “Thank you, thank you so much, Renée. You’ve made me so happy, doing this for me.” Renée pecked the younger woman’s cheek. “Good, I’m glad,” she said. “Now, it’s time you got back to your love, mon cher.”

Andy drew the older woman into an embrace, kissing her cheek. “I’ll do that,” she said. “Merci, ma belle amie.” Andy closed the box, picking it up, cradling it in her arms. Renée grinned as the brunette turned, and walked towards the door. “Joyeux Noël, Andy!” she said, an impish smile on her face. “Bonne chance ce soir!”

Andy chuckled, low in her chest. “I don’t think I’m going to need good luck tonight, Renée. Not when I show her this!”


	2. Oh, Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Andy trim the Christmas tree. The girls help.

Andy turned the key in the front door of the townhouse, letting herself in. The faint sounds of “The Beach Boys Christmas Album”, echoed from upstairs. The brunette grinned, hanging her coat in the hall closet. She leapt up the stairs, parcel in hand, towards the family room. She opened the door. A whirlwind of activity greeted her. Miranda, impeccable in a black Dolce & Gabbana pencil skirt and white Givenchy blouse. Decorating a Christmas tree. A huge Christmas tree. Hanging blown glass ornaments on each bough, nodding as they met her approval.

“It’s magnificent,” breathed Andy. Miranda turned, smiling at her lover. “It’s a blue spruce,” the editor said. “I had it delivered from a tree farm in Connecticut.” She gazed at the tree, a frown flickering across her face. "Perhaps I should’ve gotten a larger one.”

Andy’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding?” she squeaked. “How did you fit this in here?” Miranda arched an eyebrow. “It’s only ten feet tall, Andrea. It’s hardly a Sequoia.” Andy shot an adoring glance to her partner. “Well, it’s beautiful, like you,” she said. Miranda smirked, bowing her head. “Why thank you, darling,” she replied. “Do you want to help me finish?”

“Of course!” Andy beamed happily. “What can I do to help?” She placed the box from Renée’s shop on the nearby leather couch. “Could you get me that box over there?” Miranda asked, pointing to a small cedar chest. Andy walked over to the chest, picking it up. She joined Miranda by the tree. “What’s in here?” she asked.

Miranda smiled, blue eyes softening as they locked with Andy’s. “Memories,” she said. “Things more precious than anything else on that tree.” She took the chest from Andrea, kneeling beside the tree. She opened the lid, pulling aside a maroon velvet throw, revealing what lay beneath.

Ornaments. Some dusty, some faded. A riot of sequins and glitter, feathers and beads. Held together with pins, hot glue, and yarn. Miranda spread the throw on the floor before her, placing each ornament in its soft embrace. Andy knelt beside Miranda, sinking to the carpet. She watched, breathless, mesmerized by the riches spread before her.

Shining balls of gilded foam. Salt dough snowmen, lovingly painted. Pinecones festooned with ribbon and lace. Crepe-paper stars, silver and white. Macaroni garland, dyed red and green. Some worn, bedraggled, frayed with time and use. But loved, cherished. Like the artists responsible.

“The girls…” Andy whispered. “Caroline and Cassidy made these.” She shook her head, looking at Miranda in amazement. “There’s so many!” Miranda nodded. “I kept them all,” she said. “Every one. Since they were in preschool.” Andy reached out, taking Miranda’s hand, their fingers twining together. “It’s so beautiful, Miranda,” she said. “Can I… can I put these up with you?”

“Of course, Andrea,” Miranda murmured. “I’d like that very much, darling.” She leaned into the brunette, capturing her lips. Soft, gentle. Smiling into the kiss as the brunette responded. She pulled away, gazing at her lover. “Mm, I like that, too,” she murmured

The writer blushed, lips parted, eyes bright with want. “Thank you, Miranda,” she said. “I’m so… so happy. So happy I can be here with you, with the girls. Everything feels like…” Miranda cocked her head, curious. “Like what, Andrea?”

Andy ducked her head, moistening pink lips with the tip of her tongue.  Her eyes darted up, meeting Miranda’s. “Like home,” she said. “The place where I belong.” Miranda drew the younger woman into her arms. “Because it is, Andrea. It is home,” she said. “For you, for me, for the girls. Because we’re a family. Because I can’t imagine being here, having a home, without you.”

Andy surged forward, locking Miranda into a searing kiss. They separated with a gasp as air ran out. “This is where I want to be,” Andy said. “Here. With you. Always. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve wanted.” They held each other tight, rocking slowly as they knelt upon the carpet. Blissful in the scent, the touch, the taste of one another. 

The sound of a door slamming woke them from their reverie. Footsteps hurried up the staircase towards them. Two redheaded blurs dashed into the room. Cassidy and Caroline. “Mom, Andy, we’re home!” cried Cassidy. She launched herself towards the older women, falling beside them. She wrapped her arms around the pair, hugging them. “Dad dropped us off outside,” said Caroline, sliding to the floor beside her sister. “Are we too late to trim the tree?”

“Nope,” replied Andy. “We've got the good stuff here, c'mon and help!” Caroline peered at the handmade ornaments. “Those old things?” she snorted. “Are you sure about that?” Miranda ruffled the tween’s hair. “Yes,” she said. “I don’t care if everything else on that tree broke, as long as I still had these.”

Cassidy chuckled. “Why’s that?” she asked. “Half of them are falling apart.” Miranda pulled both girls close, into the circle of her and Andy’s arms. “Because you made them,” she said. “What a softy,” giggled Cassidy. “Some dragon you are!”

“Can we help out?” asked Caroline. “We can put up the garland and some ornaments.” Miranda chuckled, rising to her feet. She offered a hand to Andy, pulling the writer to her feet. “Yes, Bobbseys,” she said. “We’ll trim the tree then put the gifts beneath it for tomorrow.”

Cassidy nodded, ready to help. “Can we watch some Christmas movies, too?” Caroline echoed her, excited. “Can we, mom?” Andy smiled, still holding on to Miranda’s hand. “Please?” she asked. Miranda nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I baked some Christmas cookies today, so you can try some while we watch.”

Cassidy’s eyes widened. “The snowball cookies, with the pecans?” she asked. “Mm, I love those!” Caroline grinned. “Yeah, but what movie should we watch?” Andy rolled her eyes. “The Grinch of course,” she said. “The real one, with Boris Karloff.” Miranda agreed. “That one’s my favorite,” she said. Caroline shrugged. “That works for me,” she said. Cassidy nodded, agreeing. “As long as there’s cookies!” she chirped.

The girls fell to work, selecting ornaments to hand on the tree. The quartet adorned the tree, smiles bright as they hung each treasure. Miranda paused, lifting one last item from the chest, wrapped in silver tissue. “What’s that, mom?” asked Cassidy. Caroline drew closer peering at the small bundle in the editor’s hands. Miranda opened the paper, freeing a small ornament. Two joined hearts, in blue and white. Formed from clay, carefully painted. Dangling from a gold lace ribbon. Two names carved into its surface.

_Caroline. Cassidy._

The words “Love you, mommy”, written beneath. “This was the first one,” Miranda said, her voice soft. “That first Christmas, when you were in preschool. You were so proud your teacher didn’t have to help.” Caroline smiled. “Except for the ribbon, and showing us how to spell the words,” she said. Cassidy nodded, beaming.

Miranda gazed at her daughters, tears welling in her eyes. “I know I haven’t always done my best, or been the mother you’ve needed,” she said. “But I’ve always, always been so proud of you. Felt so blessed to have you in my life. That’s why… that’s why these things mean so much to me.”

The girls rushed the older woman, wrapping her in a tight hug. “You’re wrong,” whispered Cassidy. “You’ve always been what we’ve needed. Always. We love you, so very, very much.” Caroline sniffled, leaning into the hug. “Don’t ever doubt that,” she said. “Ever. Because we know what you’ve done, how hard you’ve worked. To give us a home. To keep us safe. To make us happy.”

“Thank you,” said Miranda, her voice thick with emotion. “I… I could lose everything I have. This house, and every other thing I own, as long as I have you. My family.” She looked over at the brunette, seeing tears on the younger woman’s face. “Andrea, please, come here my darling,” she said, reaching out her hand. Andy joined the trio, falling into their warm embrace. A feeling of peace, of belonging, in her heart.

Miranda paused, unwilling to break the moment. The joy that glowed in her chest. “Well, want to hang it?” she asked, eyes on her companions. “Yes. Let Andy do it,” Cassidy said. “She’s part of us, now.” Miranda nodded. “You’re right,” she replied. “She is.” She handed the ornament to Andy, placing the cool ceramic in the palm of her hand. Andy turned to the tree, slipping the gold ribbon over one bough, hanging it. “Beautiful,” she breathed.

Caroline looked at the tree, her brow furrowed. “Where’s the star?” she asked, looking at the top. Miranda sighed, crestfallen. “It’s broken,” she said. “I’m sorry. There was no way to fix it, I’m afraid.”

Andy glanced over at the couch, towards the box that lay upon it. “About that,” she said. “There’s something I want to show you, Miranda…” Caroline followed Andy’s gaze, her eyes sharp, spying the gift. “What’s that?” the redhead asked, pointing at it. “Oh, it’s something I got for your mom,” she said, crossing over to take the box. “Something for the tree. I saw it awhile back and I … I had to have it.”

Caroline approached, her eyes curious. “Can we see it?” she asked. “Sure,” Andy said. “It’s a tree-topper. I thought…” Miranda looked at the box, then Andy. “Thought what?” she queried. The brunette blushed. “That it… that it was beautiful,” she husked.

She opened the box.

Inside lay an angel, cushioned on a bed of red satin.

Andy lifted the seraph from its resting place. A crown of frost framed her lovely face. Clad in white silk, shot through with silver. Soft wings lay folded at her back. Her hands raised, held before her breast. A crimson heart, of Swarovski crystal, encircled gently within.

Cassidy looked at her mother. “She looks like you!” she said. Caroline gaped at the figure, her eyes wide. “She does,” she whispered.

“It’s… it’s lovely,” said Miranda. “Where did you get it?” Andy smiled, pleased by the editor’s reaction. “An antique shop downtown,” she answered. “A friend was holding her for me. She knew how much I wanted this piece.” Miranda raised her eyebrows. “It’s very old, I can tell,” she said. “Vintage Tiffany, perhaps?”

Andy shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied. “All I can say is that I fell in love as soon as I saw her. I begged Renée to keep her for me.” Miranda looked at the figure. Pale skin, cheeks and lips flushed pink. Her eyes, deep cobalt. Argent hair a halo about her head. “She’s perfect,” said Cassidy. “So much better than the star.” Caroline nodded her agreement.

“Mom, can we set up the movie while you finish?” Caroline asked. Miranda smiled. “Of course,” she said. “We’ll be up shortly.” Cassidy took her sister’s hand. “Don’t forget the cookies!” she giggled. The pair turned, rushing down the hallway to the game room.

Miranda paused, watching her daughters retreat. Blue eyes swept up to meet Andy’s, then returned to the angel. “The resemblance is… remarkable,” she said. “Why did you get it?”

Andy took a deep breath. “I … I had to. It’s hard to explain,” she said, blushing.

“Try,” said Miranda, looking at the writer.

Andy swallowed, taking a breath. “She reminded me of you, of everything you are to me,” Andy said. “Your beauty, your strength, the care you show for those you love. Everything that makes me want to be yours, as long as you’ll let me.” 

“Andrea…” breathed Miranda, her eyes soft. She leaned forward, capturing the writer’s lips in a kiss.

Andy placed the angel in Miranda’s hands. “You do the honors,” she said. Miranda slipped off her black Laboutin pumps, letting them fall to the floor. She climbed the ladder set beside the tree, cradling the gift in one arm. Miranda paused at the ladder’s summit, placing the angel atop the tree. She looked at it, the soft white lights of the tree sparkling upon her robe and hair. “Perfect,” she breathed. “Like it was always meant to be there.”

Miranda stepped down from the ladder, smiling as she took Andy’s hand. She turned towards the tree. “It’s beautiful, Andrea,” she said. “Thank you.” Andy squeezed her hand, leaning close to kiss the editor’s cheek. “You’re welcome,” the brunette said, offering an arm to Miranda. “Well, shall we join the girls?” she asked. “It looks like they’re impatient for movies.” Miranda smirked. “And cookies,” she said.


	3. A Gift of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy and Miranda talk about the gift, and share their feelings for each other.

Andy stood in the family room, gazing at the Christmas tree. It was late, the glow of the tree reaching out across the darkened room. Pinpoints of light glancing off glass, tinsel and glitter. She looked up at the angel, to the cerise heart cradled in her hands. “How lucky I am,” she whispered. “To be held, and loved, and wanted so. I never thought I had a chance, when I was her assistant.”

A figure emerged from the shadows. The dim light of the Christmas tree revealing her. Miranda. “Because you couldn’t see yourself from the outside,” the editor said. “What others recognized in you. Your warmth, compassion, and kindness. The great capacity for love you have.”

Andy shook her head. “I never thought you’d see me that way,” she said. “Or ever notice how I felt.” Miranda came close, a hand touching Andy’s back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not that I didn’t see you, or want you. I was just so afraid. Afraid to be hurt. Afraid you’d see the love in my eyes. Afraid you wouldn’t want it.”

Andy turned, meeting Miranda’s eyes. Chocolate orbs misting with tears. “I’ll always want you. Always,” she said. “To be with you, by your side. To be yours, in every way."

Andy gestured up towards the angel. “When I saw her, she reminded me of you. Of how you make me feel.” Andy said. “Holding my heart, so gently in your hands. Protecting me. Loving me. Giving me a home, a place where I belong. The place I’ll always want to be.”

“Where?” whispered Miranda, her voice fragile.

“Here,” Andy said, placing a hand on Miranda's breast.

“You mean it?” asked Miranda, her voice hoarse.

Andy nodded, dark eyes solemn. “For this life, and beyond, ‘til my soul finds yours again,” she said.

“Why?” asked Miranda, her voice trembling.

Andy’s arms fell, circling the editor’s waist. “Because I love you,” she said. “And I never want that to change."

“You promise?” breathed Miranda.

“Yes,” said Andy, capturing Miranda’s hand, clutching it to her breast. “With all this heart I give you. Because I know you’ll keep it safe, within your own.”

Miranda raised her hands, cradling Andy’s face. Her eyes bright with tears, a fierce joy within them. “I love you Andy, I love you so much,” she said.

Andy smiled, her face radiant. “I’m yours, yours Miranda, and I’ll never want another.”

“Never?” whispered Miranda.

“Never,” Andy said, her eyes luminous, shining with love and desire. “You’re all I want. All I hope for. All I need. My angel, my queen, my beautiful dragon.”

Miranda chuckled as she leaned into the brunette. “Yours?” she said, a gentle smirk upon her face.

“Mine,” the writer replied, a flush of ardor pinking her cheeks. “Like I belong to you.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Miranda, blue eyes darkening, her voice husky with arousal.

Andy’s hands wrapped around the editor, pulling her close. She leaned forward, claiming Miranda’s lips. A sigh of delight, of bliss, escaping her as the kiss deepened.

They clung together, falling to the floor, in shadowed treelight. Clothes and words soon abandoned.

The angel high above, its smile soft, a benison.

Their hearts in synchrony.

Together.

One.


End file.
